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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524293">I love you, also.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kongduyu/pseuds/kongduyu'>kongduyu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love, M/M, a very soft love I'm just-, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kongduyu/pseuds/kongduyu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt wasn’t a man of many words but he spoke loudly if you knew how to listen. Jaskier had great ears, his professor would tell him, so of course, it was the bard who knew what he meant exactly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I love you, also.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier never stopped talking even when his mouth was tightly shut. The bard came from the land of poetry, music, dance, and of course, flamboyance. He was ever the expressionist. His eyes sparkled just right and his lips curled with such drama, you could understand which poetry could be crafted for such emotions. Jaskier was an educated man. He was created and born into the art of words and glamour. He was a man who knew when to throw his hands up in the air and when to bow down with a humble airiness. Eventually, Jaskier was a man. He just wanted to be understood under his dazzling looks and well-kept appearance. More than that, he wanted to understand. Understand the world and the man whom he followed to the ends of the world. Jaskier looked at Geralt’s back, tight with the weariness, almost getting sluggish with each step as the sun went down. Tired yet never defeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt, in contrast, wasn’t a man of many words. He wasn’t a man of any word perhaps. He never knew what to say or if his choice of words was appropriated for the given situations, so he stood there almost with a child-like shyness, always. The witcher had the mouth of someone who was alone for many years. Tight. Heavy. Words always cracky, meanings were too straight. The first couple of months after they began traveling, Jaskier truly believed the man only, maybe, tolerated him at best for self-interest. A couple of extra coins, or a matter of reputation. Jaskier laughed quietly, a short huff of air out his nose at that. Oh, how the time changes, he thought, as he pulled two worn-out bags from Roach’s saddle. Eventually, Geralt was also a man. A man who wanted to be understood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mastery of understanding one another wasn’t as simple as one might thing of course. It never was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were stopping for the night, at last, in a small clearing near a village. It was nearing summer nowadays and the heat from the late spring was warming Jaskiers bones pleasantly under the red sun. By the time Jaskier dropped himself on the damp grass, Geralt was already on the ground, back against a tree, looking through his belongings with a deep frown. Everything was running low, Jaskier could guess.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, my dear friend, as much as I enjoy this soft breeze of spring, can we perhaps stop in a town, or even a village, really, soon?” asked Jaskier while pulling some stale bread out of a pouch. Hearing a soft affirmative hum from the man in front of him, the bard threw a generously sized bread towards him and continued, “It wouldn’t hurt to get some real food along the way and -oh, some wine too!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Forcing a dry bread down his throat, Jaskier looked up to Geralt’s eyes, shining like molten iron beads from the distance. The sun, setting being himself, the bard found the eyes burning him more than the light, seeping through his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, here- let me get you out of that armor dear and why don’t we take a dip on this stream- No offense, you stink, c’mon get up!” exclaimed the bard, already up and pulling the witcher on his feet with a great force. Shedding the clothes on their way to the shallow waters, Jaskier noted the amused glint passing over the witcher’s face, already forming a unique crinkle of their own on his impassive face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once in the swallow water, Jaskier watched under his eyelashes while Geralt rubbed himself down quickly with a damp towel, sneaking a peek here and there without shame. Lost in the sight across himself, the bard tensed a little at the cold droplets hitting his neck. Looking up, he saw Geralt watching him while cautiously getting closer to his warm, damp body. The witcher’s body heat gently wrapping him in, Jaskier sighed gently and let his head drop to pale, scarred chest while Geralt kept rubbing his body kindly. His hands taught to kill and yield swords were as gentle as a feather of a bird while handling Jaskier. His hulking body, wrapped around the bard seemed all soft with how carefully, out of character he moved around the bard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt wasn’t a man of many words but he spoke loudly if you knew how to listen. Jaskier had great ears, his professor would tell him, so of course, it was the bard who knew what he meant. Now the warm breeze, turning sour, the sun no longer peeking behind the hills, Jaskier pushed their naked bodies together, almost huddling to the witcher, stealing his warmth just like his affection. The bard tiptoed, lifting his face from the other’s neck and tough hairs tickling his cheeks, put a soft kiss at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fire. We need fire.” murmured Geralt, before pressing his lips, this time for real, upon Jaskier’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, yeah, fire.” answered, muffled between the witchers kisses. Geralt never told him where they stood exactly nor Jaskier asked. Between the kisses and their legs tangling up together, the bard thought, it doesn’t matter anyhow where they stand. As long as the warm citrus color of Geralt’s eyes met his, Jaskier didn’t need any words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier had plenty of words and Geralt had little to none. The bard filled the silence yet again, with his head securely on the witcher’s shoulder, a whisper of love. There was silence after that. And a kiss on top of his head, meaning I love you, also.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  
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<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll admit, I didn't read it after I finish writing so who knows what happened, certainly not me. <br/>I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to give feedback and comments they are always appreciated.<br/>Much love.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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